The Gilbert Conundrum
by HungOverGilbert
Summary: Elena Gilbert is running out of options, will she give into the sweet temptation offered to her when her mother's life is in danger, or will her pride consume her? Rated M for good reason, graphic violent situations, explicit sexual content and coarse language.
1. The Slow Thaw

She took a drag from her Malboro Red and closed her eyes, revering in the feel of freshly tumble dried cotton between the tips of her fingers and upon exhale, she was bumped by the washing machine that was a force of momentum itself, flaking tobacco debris all over her recently washed sweater.

"Aw, shit," the oath was muttered absent of finesse as she tossed her smoke into an abandoned bathtub in the corner of the room and peeled the sweater off, tossing it back in the seemingly endless pile of dirty laundry.

"What's going on down there?"

"Nothing Ma, it's fine!" Elena Gilbert snorted and scowled at the now burnt sweater lying in a pool of blue with a few green stains from the grass she had played in as a child, much to her mother's distress. She almost smiled then, _almost_, because remembering those days made her life now seem heavy, thick, and those feelings could either be accepted or ignored, but Elena found comfort in pretending she was always this person, a blank slate. Never looking at the past made it almost seem like a movie, a recollection of images and senses that didn't belong to her. She preferred to think of the past that way, a movie.

Elena propped a plastic chair against the washing machine as it churned and thumped, it was as if the contents were impossibly eager to escape and drape the room in wet, soggy fabric. On her trek up the stairs, she saw two figures' silhouettes under the door. Trying to get a better look, she tried to scamper up to the door and make as little noise as possible, but failed. The old staircase leading down to the basement was never kind to Elena's endeavors and it make a loud creaking sound, something that might have been alarming if she hadn't heard it a hundred times before.

_Creaaakkkkkkkkk!_

Isobel Gilbert turned around and expressed her dispassion for eavesdropping by shuffling away into her bedroom, and slamming the door shut.

Elena slowly opened the door to the stairwell and saw her mother's latest boyfriend, Tony, standing in the kitchen looking rather irritated, no doubt because of the exchange between him and her mother only moments ago.

"What the hell are you looking at, kid?" Tony snarled looking an awful lot like something a child might have a nightmare about.

"Nothing, I was just doing some laundry."

"I was just doing some laundry," Tony mimicked in a high-pitched voice that resembled a school girl whose pigtails were being pulled on. "Maybe if you minded your own fucking business people could get more done around here and we wouldn't have to worry about you fucking shit up," he emphasized by taking several long strides towards her and pointing a threatening finger in her direction "Snooping the hell around, sniffing out problems that have nothing to do with your sorry ass."

Before Elena could come back with a snarky retort, he had grabbed his badge and gun off the kitchen counter and stormed out the front door, most likely to the bar or work. You see, our dear friend Tony was not only a senior officer, but he was also the Blue Moon Tavern's favorite day drinker.

Elena rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen to start the dish washer when she saw an orange envelope that looked like it was torn in half, she picked it up and glanced at the return address; it was from the labor and industries department in down town. Elena Gilbert wasn't stupid; she knew that this check wasn't like the other checks her mother had been getting ever since that dreadful April morning, the 24th to be exact, when she couldn't get out of bed without screaming bloody murder at two in the morning. No, this was different, because there was a bold stamp across the front of it that said 'final disclosure."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

* * *

Elena Gilbert hated lines; actually, she hated _government facilitated_ lines, perhaps because they were so mandatory you felt not the need to be there, but the nagging necessity, like you had a ball and chain attached to your ankles was enough to aggravate the youngest Gilbert, she disliked being what to do. It was childish, she knew, but she's always had issues with authority figures, even her mother couldn't tell her what to wear before school, she had to choose every article of clothing herself. Recognition of childhood was enough to bring Elena back to the present, where she was very much sandwiched in between Detroit's finest. Her right hand twitched and she felt a strong urge to pull out a smoke, stress did that to her.

The _unbearably_ long line began to inch forward, signifying a passing of time that Elena did not have which only contributed to further aggravation. The whole situation was ridiculous. You see, Elena's mother was a nurse, a state nurse at that, and she was on sick leave for an undetermined amount of time however her social security checks were supposed to be mailed once per month providing them with enough money to keep the roof over their heads with heat on, and maybe even a little food if they could stretch it.

"Next in line," crackled a voice over the intercom.

And that was why she was here, in this dreadfully long line. Because there had been a mix up with the mailing, and they'd gotten it wrong, they'd gotten something wrong.

Elena glanced at her ticket stub that listed her as the 256th person in line, and groaned when she realized they had just called the 56th person. She frowned and looked up, meeting the gaze of a curious stranger. She thought she recognized him at first, but she couldn't quite place his face until he smiled.

Fabulous thought Elena, not only was she stuck standing in this abysmally long line, but one of her high school classmates, Mathew Brown was now a witness to her never ending spiral of humiliation. Her cheeks reddened partly in shame, and partly out of irritation.

Matt had been a football player when she was a freshman and last she'd heard about him was that he had been scouted by several out of state schools for a corner back position, but by the looks of things life hadn't worked out for him as he'd planned, just as it hadn't for her.

Elena grimaced at him and he enthusiastically waved back so vigorously it seemed as if he were trying to chop down a tree with his arm.

"Next in line!"

Elena was going to have a long day.

* * *

To Elena Gilbert, life was pretty simple; you have some good things, and you have a few bad, or perhaps more, and those things don't condition each other, nor do they take from each other. But the way we respond to those events are what define us, how we treat each good thing and bad thing, that's who we are regardless of what we feel otherwise. We can lie to ourselves and think that we're good or bad people, but in the end it's how we act or react that defines us and makes us who we are. And we, people, are what effect and change the world; we make it what it is. So you see, it matters not what we feel, but what we do, and that was a code Elena had lived by for years, until her mother got sick.

It was a slow thaw, the little things started to add up and before she knew it, Elena was barely able to pay for the electrical bill and getting a job was out of the question, having never actually complete high school.

So it had begun, it started out as small thefts here and there, the harmless shoplifting that had been more out of necessity than anything, but it still didn't sit well with Elena. After a while she got used to it, it just became an action that she performed while mostly detached, on a good day. But like most things in Elena's life, it went south rather quickly. She was arrested after being caught tucking a bag of sugar under her coat in a mini-mart on the edge of town. Luckily Tony was on shift that night; else she would've been booked all weekend and stuck waiting for a trial while her mother was home and in need of her help. She was so mortified she promised herself and her mother she would never under any circumstances take something that was not rightfully her property again.

But temptation to break that promise was reaching an all-time high no matter how ashamed she was of it. Social security fell through; declining Elena's repeated requests to have her mother reinstated. Elena was running out of options on the income front and she wasn't going to reduce herself to selling what was left of the pride she had on a street corner.

She needed money, they needed money and they couldn't magically grow it, no, she needed to find a source of income before it was too late; if her mother couldn't buy medication, ethical debates with herself usually took the back seat.

The Elena who followed rules and cared about things like homework and morals regarding petty theft was gone, dead. She died when everything went to shit, when her mom became ill, and when she just flat out stopped caring about anything outside of immediate needs like food and water and medicine.

Elena's body jerked as she heard harsh pounding on the front door and sent her cup of coffee flying off the counter onto the filthy linoleum flooring. She knit her eyebrows together wondering who it could be, and then realized that there was absolutely no reason for someone to be knocking on her door at two in the morning.

This couldn't be good thought Elena as she grabbed a knife off the counter in case a dreadful surprise was awaiting her at the front door.

* * *

**A/N: This is really my first actual attempt at constructing something that was not completely horrendous, so I'm sorry if it is. xD**

**Music for this chapter: Trentemøller - Moan (ENiGMA Dubz Remix)**


	2. The Proposition

"So, how's your mom been?" Asked Matt as he smirked at Elena over a steaming hot cup of the worst coffee the mid-west had to offer.

"Ok," Elena said as she finished cleaning up the last few bits of the mug she dropped, sighing on account of the ironic piece that was left on the floor that said 'Worlds #1 daughter' in bright yellow font.

"Really? That's why you answered your door with a knife?"

"We live in a shitty place, what can I say?" She glanced up at his doubtful look. "Look Matt, I don't really need a pep talk if that's what you're here for. Everyone's got their own problems; you know that."

"No need to be so touchy, Elena."

"No need to be so touchy? You randomly show up at my house in the middle of the night, but I have no need to be touchy? Please Matt, give me a little bit more credit than that." She said as she hoisted herself up onto her counter, unwilling to leave the butcher blocks' side.

Matt clicked his jaw and smiled. "Elena, how do you know that I'm not here to help you?"

"I don't, but I don't make a habit of assuming the best of people." Elena sighed and got to her feet, ready to remove him by all means necessary; still staying close to the kitchen knives cautiously. "Are we done here? I have to get some sleep before work tomorrow; else I'll look like the walking dead."

"I hate to break it to you Elena, but you already do."

"Fuck you, Donovan."

Elena Gilbert's jobs were never something to brag about because, well, they weren't _real_ jobs. Part time work here and there didn't qualify her for any actual benefits. And while her jobs were under the table, she really made all her money off tips.

"Anything else can get you boys?" Elena's tight smile didn't actually fool anyone who cared to look, but of course, no one was actually looking at her _face_.

"Maybe later darling," a particularly disgusting egg-shaped man winked at her, and Elena fought the urge to gag. With the exception of his flabby arms and legs, and the few sprigs of hair sticking out of the top of his head, he was a perfect oval shape. To make matters worse, he took to massaging her rear-end every time she approached the table.

"I'll be back in a few." With that, Elena all but ran – as fast as she could go in six inch pumps – away from the table that was perhaps pushing her tolerance limit. She'd been groped by her fair share of nasty customers; sure, it was a club after all. However, most stopped when she gave little cues and brushed them off. Of course, the job demanded this, and she had to keep herself in business, so she tolerated it whilst picturing a graphic show of violence in her mind.

"Elena, wait up!"

Elena distantly heard her name being yelled through the thundering music and turned around to see Matt smiling dazzlingly down at her. The picture almost made her nauseous. His close proximity made her take several steps backwards.

Was she nervous? No, she wasn't nervous, a washed out jock couldn't make Elena Gilbert nervous. No way, not after the life she continued to endure for the sake of her mother. Nervous wasn't a word that Elena could afford, however, she was cautious. Matt seemed to be stalking her and that could only mean two things: one, he wanted a one night stand, or two, he wanted money. The first one she would, under normal circumstances, be very ok with. She hadn't been with a man for far too long and despite the fact that he wasn't a jock any longer, he still had a wonderfully fit figure with nice broad shoulders, shoulders that begged to be held onto. The second, however, wasn't something that she was in a position to do but it seemed unlikely anyway, Matt knew that she wouldn't be working here if she had anything to spare.

"Stalking me now, Donovan? I should be touched, but I'm not really into that."

Matt calmly laughed and smiled, again with the creepily perfect smile, "I think there are a few things we need to clear up, Elena. First off, I'm not trying to murder you-"

"Then why the hell are you stalking me? And before you tell me that you're not, following someone to work in the dead of night is considered stalking."

"I have a business proposition for you," he rushed out quickly.

Elena felt sick. She knew where this was going; after all, this hadn't been the first time someone was looking to make a quick buck at the expense of her dignity, or what was left of it. It didn't really surprise her either, after all, his visit last night had been questionable, and his hasty departure had been rather suspicious.

"I'm not interested, sorry!" She said and rushed away, only taking several steps before she felt someone gripping her upper arm loosely, but firmly. "Let me GO!" Extracting her arm from Matt's grip created a horrific scene that would honestly be branded in her memory forever. Her tray went flying, and so did the dirty martini glasses on it.

Both she and Matt were in a transitive state, stuck staring as the glass cascaded through the crowd just to hit a guy in the face, making him scream at a volume that Elena wasn't sure was possible. The incident would have been fine had her manager not seen and the victim of her flying glass been less adamant that she be fired on the spot for her indiscretion.

"Fuck me."

The sinking feeling in her gut had not gone away since she left the club in a flurry of chaos and threatening exchanges. She hated the job, sure, but the cash wasn't really comparable unless she wanted to actually become sexually subservient to one of Detroit's finest thugs.

The worst part about this, her losing her job despite its conditions, was that it had all been for nothing. Girls were notoriously treated like, well, shit on the club scene. Guys could be promoted after a few months of working behind a bar or as waiters, but girls had to pay their dues, and Elena had sure as hell paid hers. Several months' worth of groping and sexual harassment from not only the customers, but her boss all to have it go to waste? No, NO! She wasn't going to do this, not now, it was too late. She wasn't going to blame herself for what had happened. She was assaulted, plain and simple, and she defended herself; as far as Elena was concerned, there was absolutely no crime in that.

"Elena! Wait up!"

Upon hearing her name, _again_, she'd had it. She'd had it with tolerating people's bullshit as _they_ did the wrong thing and she had to take the heat for their misadventures in _her_ fucking life. Besides, she'd just lost her job because of this clown; the least she could do was give him a little piece of what she felt like inflicting upon the world. "YOU!" She spat vehemently as she turned around, "You fucking jackass, do you have any idea what you've done? DO YOU?" At this point, she was inches from his face and jabbing her finger onto his chest so hard he had to take several steps back.

"You never gave me a chance to finish, I have a business-"

"Oh, I've heard this story before. Seriously, Matt? I never thought you'd stoop so low, but I guess I really shouldn't put anything past anyone anymore."

"Elena! It's not like that, I mean, it's not what you think and it has nothing to do with-"

"Fucking your friends?"

"No, it has nothing to do with that."

"I don't believe you." At this point, Elena had taken to backing off of the physical abuse in favor of staring at him pointedly with a slight squint to her left eye.

Matt sighed and ran his hand through his hair, mumbling something about having told 'him' that she wouldn't.

Suddenly, her curiosity was piqued. "However, say that I did, what exactly do you have in mind?"

"It's complicated; we'll have to go somewhere else to talk about it, some place no one will find us."

"Un-complicate it for me, then"

"Elena, you don't understand, I can't."

"So, let me get this straight, you want me to follow you to some dark place where I could easily be cut up into little bits so we can 'talk' about some mysterious thing and you won't give me a clue as to what this thing may be?" Elena chuckled and turned around, hoping that the diner on 52nd wasn't closed yet. Who knew, maybe she could get another job tonight and finish her shift.

"You're out of options Elena; you know it and I know it, so just give me ten minutes. Ten minutes is all I'm askin' for."

"You know, we could've just gone to your place." Commented Elena as she followed Matt through an abandoned dark building."

He snorted and kept wandering off into the darkness that seemed infinite.

Against her better judgment, she had decided to hear Matt out and come along to an obscure area, somewhere no one would hear her scream. Clearly, her losing her job caused a severe lapse of judgment on her part. She just hoped her mom was okay. _Oh god_, her mom. She hadn't even thought about how she was doing, she had been so preoccupied with her own problems.

"Ah, found it." Matt flipped a switch and for a second, Elena was blinded by a light so bright that she felt it was piercing her retinas.

"Ok, we have a lot to talk about. First off, I was sent to find you-"

"Wait, what? Sent by whom?"

"Can you just let me finish? Jesus." Elena resigned herself to sitting in a plastic lawn and glaring at Matt. "Anyway, I was sent by Stefan and NO, don't interrupt me again, Elena." Elena leaned back in her chair and continued to glare at Matt while folding her arms for dramatic flair. She hadn't heard from Stefan in several years, ever since he'd heard about her mother's diagnoses he started to distance himself, growing colder and colder until the limb that was their friendship just fell off. It still hurt if she gave it any though, but she didn't, so it didn't. She couldn't care less about him; he'd rot before she gave a damn about his abandoning self.

"He knew you'd be a useful asset to us-"

"Jesus Matt, what's with all this super-secret-spy jargon? Just get to the fucking point."

"We're going to rob a bank."


End file.
